


Bags of Peanuts in Pittsburgh

by TheZev



Series: The Courtship of Mary Jane Watson [3]
Category: Spider-Man (Comicverse)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:15:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26480257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheZev/pseuds/TheZev
Summary: Flying back to New York after MJ accepts Peter's proposal, the happy couple discusses the question of children. Because that's the kind of thing you talk about *before* you get married, *Quesada*.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Mary Jane Watson
Series: The Courtship of Mary Jane Watson [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1925068
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place directly after Amazing Spider-Man 292.

Their flight back to New York from Pittsburgh had reached a cruising altitude of 35,105 feet, but Peter felt like he hardly needed jet fuel to reach that height. In the airport, right next to the luggage check, Mary Jane had finally agreed to marry him. Thankfully, they had arrived early to their flight like Aunt May had always taught him—if Peter had tried to board in his present condition, he’d’ve worried the TSA would flag him as an explosive. They had celebratory drinks in the sky lounge; obscenely overpriced, but who the hell cared? And then they were onboard the 747, flying back to New York. Flying back home.

Peter was so exuberant it took him a while to notice how quiet Mary Jane was. Not sad, but deep in thought. The kind of thoughts he just knew he was obliged to have bounce off him. He’d just accepted that responsibility. He didn’t intend to shirk it now, or ever.

“Hey, you’re quiet. _Quiet-_ quiet. Everything okay?” He grinned comfortingly at her. “It’s a bit early for regrets.”

Mary Jane flashed her own grin at him, both reassuring him and teasing him for daring to think that, now that her mind was made up, anything could dissuade her. “Couldn’t have less regrets, tiger. I was just thinking. I heard you were a little into that.”

Peter turned on his side as best as the cramped airline seat would allow. Now that he knew this was some kind of… engagement honeymoon, he wished he had sprung for first class tickets. “I’m absolutely into that. Care to lay a few of those thoughts on me? I’m running a little low.” He tapped the side of his head with his knuckles. “See? Nearly hollow.”

Mary Jane giggled. “Guess I’m going to have to get used to sharing my problems with you sooner or later. We’ll start off small—this isn’t even a real problem.”

“Awesome, I’m great at those.”

“I was just thinking that—assuming the offer is still open—I just agreed to share my life with you. And I can’t help but wonder what kind of life that’s going to be.”

“Whatever you want it to be, MJ. I’ll make it happen.”

She let out another chortle. “I don’t doubt it, Mr. Parker. But I was thinking specifics. Now, for instance, I know you can handle yourself in bed, but how are you situated for what comes after that?”

“Cuddling?”

“Children,” Mary Jane said. She had to be trying to be that deadpan—there was no way she could resist. “Do you want to have children?”

Peter had just been thinking that, after all the good karma he’d racked up, it was a shame the universe couldn’t compensate him a little with a free upgrade to first class for the happiest day of his life. But he’d never complain about Fate or the Living Tribunal or whoever was in charge of these things again, because a stewardess-flight-attendant-person showed up then, bags of peanuts and cups of Diet Coke for both of them.

Peter looked out the window to gather his thoughts. He was used to a unique outlook on the ground, but getting a cloud’s perspective on things really made him feel like small potatoes. Or maybe that was just MJ’s question.

Mary Jane patted his hand on the armrest. “Hey, tiger, this isn’t Double Jeopardy. There’s no right or wrong answer. I just want to hear your thoughts. Whenever you happen to have some.” She smiled. “I’m guessing this didn’t come up when you were dating the Black Cat.”

“Hey now, let’s not get into exes. Felicia wasn’t such a bad girl.”

“I’m sure to a guy, she wouldn’t be.” Then Mary Jane’s face froze a little. “Was… was this something you talked about with Gwen? Because I didn’t mean—”

He shook his head quickly. “No, no, nothing like that. We never talked about it. I always assumed it’d be a pretty traditional marriage. Four kids, white picket fence, family dog, she stays home wearing a sundress… I was, what, nineteen? Must seem pretty thoughtless.”

“No, I think she would’ve liked that.”

“And you?” he pressed.

“Not really. But I’m not Felicia either. I want kids, but I also want a career, and I want you to be Spider-Man. And most of all, I don’t want to bring a life into this world if we can’t be the best parents imaginable.”

“Well, you’ve got your half of that equation locked down, pretty lady.”

Mary Jane grinned, but it went only so far up her dimpled cheeks. “Don’t give me too much credit. I only just patched things up with Gayle. I’m still a stranger to her kids. I haven’t worked on family half as much as you have.”

“Still, I think you’d be a great mom. And I want you to be. I’m not going to let Spider-Man—or anything else—keep us from having a full life.”

Mary Jane nodded absently. “Full points for determination, tiger. But how about we run through the other issues?”

“Hit me. I’m sure this is exactly the kind of thing Midtown Debate Club was preparing me for.”

“Okay.” Mary Jane counted off with one finger. “Not to put too fine a point on it, but can we even _have_ kids? That’s the medical question. I could be infertile. You could be infertile. We could need in vitro fertilization or another procedure—that costs money. Then there’s the other thing. You told me once that giving your aunt a blood transfusion nearly killed her. How will a pregnancy pan out? Will the baby be normal or like you or could it have some kind of birth defect that makes its life a living hell?”

“Hold on, hold on a minute.” Peter took both of Mary Jane’s hands. “Those are valid questions, MJ, but we’re not going to figure out the answers to any of them with a Sharper Image catalog and an in-flight movie. We’d need to see doctors, scientists. Until then, we’re just getting ourselves worked up over nothing.”

“You’re right, Pete. Let’s table that for now*. If all else fails, we can always adopt. I know one guy who wasn’t raised by his biological parents and he turned out pretty great.”

Peter blushed. “There’s no way I could be as great a… a _dad_ as Uncle Ben was.”

“I bet he said the exact same thing when you were moving in. But assuming it’s possible, a baby’s a full-time job, full-time responsibility. Peter, I love you, but you can’t rush off to fight the Green Goblin and leave a baby alone. And I… I could see myself being a full-time mom, but not right now. Especially when my career is about the best source of income we have.”

Peter’s ears burned. That stung a little. An hour into their marriage, their engagement, and he was failing at taking care of her. _No, you’re not, Parker. She needs to talk this out._ That’s _how you take care of her. If she just needed money, she’d be married to some batty billionaire already._

“We don’t have to start trying for a kid the moment we drive off with the cans tied to our bumper,” Peter reminded her. “We could wait until we’ve got things locked down. I could graduate college, find work at a lab. I’m sure I could ask Mr. Fantastic or Tony Stark for a job with flexible hours. We could hire a nanny, or buy a house near May or Anna. I’m sure they’d love to pitch in.”

Mary Jane frowned. “I know they would, but I don’t want to have a baby just to foist it off on our aunts.”

“We wouldn’t. This would only be for emergencies.”

“And how do we explain an emergency that needs Peter Parker, lab technician, to dump his baby on his elderly aunt?”

Peter leaned back in his chair. “Ah.” He scrubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands. “I’ll have to tell her, won’t I?”

“I think that’s what would be fair to her.”

Peter lowered his hands. “I doubt the shock would really… harm her. She’s in good shape these days. But worrying about me, worrying every time I get into a fight… at her age…”

Mary Jane reached out and entwined her arm with his. “I worry about that too. But the way I figure it is… imagine we could tell her, and then give her the option of forgetting the whole thing and going back to blissful ignorance. Don’t you think she would choose to help us… to be part of your life, even this awful, wonderful part… even if it means she doesn’t live to be a hundred?”

Peter pursed his lips, chin wrinkling. He hated the thought, he hated how much sense Mary Jane made. He almost expected to feel a flash of anger towards her for bringing up the possibility of harm to his aunt—all the combustible materials were there—but he couldn’t get mad at her, not over this, not when he knew how pure her intentions were. Whatever irritation he felt dropped into her care and compassion like a lit match falling into the ocean.

“Maybe you’re right. I suppose if it comes to that, we should tell her. But not before. I don’t want her to worry unnecessarily.”

“That’s fair. We could just attach a note to some of the ultrasounds,” Mary Jane nodded. “God, how long have we been talking? I feel like we should’ve hit some turbulence or something by now.”

Peter picked up his Coke and sipped it. “Long enough for this to go flat.”

“Still good enough to wash down the peanuts.”

“You’re very pragmatic for a pretty girl.”

“That’s how I stay pretty.” She tossed him her bag of peanuts. “As long as I’m marrying you, open this for me, would ya, hon?”

It was his pleasure. He handed it back to her. Mary Jane snorted with laughter.

“What? Don’t tell me the way I did that amused you.”

“I was just thinking maybe we should get a pet first. A dog. Or a cat. What is the most baby-adjacent animal there is?”

“I don’t know. In high school, they made us carry around those egg babies—so a bird?”

Mary Jane poured the whole bag into her mouth, then leaned back with her hands behind her head as she chewed. “You know what? Speaking of Aunt May, we should talk to her about this. She always seemed to have the perfect marriage—maybe she can give us a cheat sheet.”

“Do we really need that?” Peter asked. “After all we’ve been through, you think there’s anything we can’t make work?”

“Oh hell yeah, we’re a power couple. We can power through anything. But I’m betting we can make the ‘powering through stuff’ thing much easier if we get some advice. I know you’d walk barefoot through Hell for me, tiger, but admit it, a little forewarning would be nice.”

“You’re actually misremembering some,” Peter replied. “I actually said I would walk through Hell in flip-flops for you. Big difference. I would look much less masculine. All the demons would make fun of me.”

“I’d tell them all it was the height of fashion in Milan. Who would you believe, me or Beelzebub?”

Peter gulped some Coke down to go with his peanuts. It wasn’t very refreshing, but at least it was sweet. “I’ve got some forewarning for you. This baby—when do we tell it the truth? _What_ do we tell it?”

“I’m guessing we’re in agreement that we can’t have a preschooler telling the teacher that her daddy’s Spider-Man?”

“I would be pretty embarrassed if Doc Ock found out my home address because of that.”

“Let me turn this around on you,” Mary Jane said, primly wrapping her hands in her lap with her seriousness. “How long are you going to be Spider-Man?”

Peter blinked. “I… I never thought about it. I tend to bounce between forever and retiring right now.”

“Much as I would like it if you kept those boyish good looks forever, tiger, your body is going to give out _someday._ I’m assuming you’ll actually call it quits and not try to fight the Lizard with some hover-walker Mr. Fantastic made for you.”

“No, but that does sound really cool.”

“So it could be that the kid’s in high school, you’ve been retired for years—we tell him or her, and it’s a non-issue. They don’t have to worry about you because you’re not swinging off to fight anyone anymore.”

Peter grinned at the idea. Surviving to old age. Retiring. Spending the rest of his life with MJ. The ring on MJ’s finger was still absorbing her body heat, transforming from cold metal into an honest-to-God _engagement ring,_ and already she was giving him a future.

“You bring a goodly amount of realpolitik to your honesty.”

Mary Jane shrugged. “I’m a girl. It’s what we do. Course, speaking of realpolitik—there’s the elephant in the room.”

Peter nodded glumly. There was the flipside—Mary Jane keeping him grounded when he wanted to soar up into the sky until he ran out of air. It wasn’t a bad thing. But it felt like pulling a tooth. A pained, rotting tooth. “Say it.”

“You have enemies. If one of them found out the truth about you—I can agree to the risks, Peter, but a child…”

“I’ve been thinking about that myself. A lot, actually. Wondering how the hell I can even ask _you_ to take that risk. Forgive me if I sound confident, because I have as many doubts here as the day is long, but I had to psych myself up this much just to show my face to you… The way I figure it is this: if we wanted to be absolutely safe, what would we be doing living in New York? The place has so many supervillains. So many. All of them, the terrorists, the criminals, the maniacs, they want to take away our happiness, for one reason or another. But if we live in fear, we’re giving our happiness away to them. I can’t promise you a safe life. I can’t promise you a happy life. All I can say is I want to be there with you for every second of it. I guess that’s what a marriage is.”

Mary Jane smiled. Not the glamour smile. The real smile. The smile as perfect as she was. “No wonder you managed to convince yourself. _I’m_ convinced. And not to ruin the moment, but take it from my ovaries—I definitely want kids.”

“Well, in lieu of getting a bird, we could at least practice.”

“Still a long way to New York, tiger. They don’t even want us to fasten our seatbelts yet.”

“The bathroom’s not occupied. And if anyone deserves to be a member of the Mile-High Club, it’s Mary Jane Watson.”

“Mary Jane Watson- _Parker,”_ MJ corrected. “You’d better get used to it if you’re expecting me to do my wifely duties already.”

“Nah, I’ll do all the work. It’s pretty cramped in there. Not a good environment to try new things.”

Mary Jane huffed a sigh. “If we do have kids, I’m telling you right now, they’re inheriting _my_ sense of humor.”


	2. Chapter 2

“I love you, Mary Jane,” Peter whispered against her cheek. “So much.”

MJ kissed him, her arms around his muscular shoulders, as solid as a redwood. She’d never felt so close to anyone in her entire life. _I never thought one little ring on my finger would make such a difference to how it felt, but things have really changed here. I guess even my body knows a little more than I do._

“So, do I give an encore?” Peter quipped. “Or settle for riotous applause?”

Mary Jane smirked against his lips, almost kissing her, but not quite. She could tell he didn’t want to stop kissing her and she didn’t want him to either. “Tiger, I think that one time—”

“Two,” Peter corrected her. “I mean, if _you’re_ counting.”

Mary Jane blushed flaming red, something only Peter seemed to be able to make her do. And they had thought of letting this boy onto the Avengers… “—is enough for the romantic ambience of an airline bathroom. If some tourist out there thinks to get his camera out of his carry-on and get the right picture, I can forget about modeling for any of the classier agencies. Besides, if I’m cooped up in here much longer, I’m going to end up with back problems!”

“Try hanging upside down from a web. It always works out for me.”

But he dutifully untangled himself from her, washing up at the sink, splashing his face with water. He slipped out and Mary Jane waited a few minutes, freshening her make-up, before she followed him back to their seats.

She didn’t think anyone had noticed their little sleight-of-hand, or how affectionate they were for the rest of the flight. Mary Jane half-slept with her head on Peter’s shoulder, hand in his, playing with his fingers and the sleek muscles of his forearm.

It wasn’t the first time they’d been intimate since that seismic shift in their relationship, Mary Jane telling Peter she knew his secret, which had suddenly made their standing with each other all the more real and all the more frightening. There had been certain affections that weren’t taught in Sunday school, but it had all been relentlessly casual.

And, looking back on it, Mary Jane could see that determination that they were just friends with a particular sexual chemistry was the exact _opposite_ of casual. They’d really been fists clenched and teeth gritted to fool themselves. Actually _refraining_ from what their bodies wanted, their own urges, in order to keep things casual. Which hadn’t at all been the case just now…

Mary Jane didn’t exactly regret keeping their ‘relationship’ on a low simmer. Things had still been murky between Peter and the Black Cat. She knew Peter hadn’t cheated—he wasn’t the type—but there’d still been _something_ there with Felicia for the longest time. And even though Peter didn’t like to talk about it, MJ had teased out that he’d had a casual ‘thing’ with the Cat. Which she wasn’t worried about continuing. Peter had chosen her, in about the most definitive way imaginable. She just hoped the thing with Black Cat had really been as casual as it seemed, on both their parts, and not the kind of ‘casual’ it had been with her and Peter.

Now that she was—and felt like—a Parker in all but name, Mary Jane wondered if she’d be afflicted by the Parker Luck. But the plane made its landing without drama, they retrieved their luggage without complications, and caught a cab back to Mary Jane’s place. Peter would be able to web-swing from there to his apartment, which would save a few dimes.

Mary Jane was quiet on the drive. She couldn’t help but think of that ‘opening salvo’ on the plane—Peter’s body pressing close to hers in the cab’s backseat did nothing to keep out those delicious memories. Now that she wasn’t running away from her connection to Peter, but embracing it wholeheartedly, Mary Jane wondered how much more intense their love life could become.

She laid her hand down, lightly but significantly, on Peter’s thigh as the vibrations of the cab’s chugging engine passed through them both. She’d decided to seduce him once they were at her place, if such an easy action deserved the name. It was time to sort out who would wear the pants in their marriage—preferably, no one.

She should’ve known something was up when she went through her hotel lobby. It seemed like the doorman was calling out to her, but Mary Jane was too beguiled by Peter to pay much attention. If it was an autograph he wanted, she could give it to him later. It wasn’t like she would be spending the rest of her life up in her apartment—tempting as that prospect might be, with her newfound company.

They got into the elevator, came to her floor, reached her door, and the penny dropped. The door had been replaced, with old police tape at the corners. Mary Jane had lived in Peter’s wake long enough to understand the chain of events. Someone had knocked down the door, making the apartment a crime scene. The management had neither wanted to have a trashed room obvious to their clientele or one of their tenant’s private space visible to anyone who passed by outside. So they’d replaced the door—Mary Jane hoped that was all that’d happened.

It wasn’t. The Haitian concierge came running, no doubt informed of the situation by the doorman, and quick to try and keep Mary Jane’s patronage—or at least keep the hotel from being sued.

“I must apologize, Miss Watson—I must, _must_ apologize—some ‘orrible person, they come in through the window, the police were called—thankfully, luckily, you were not there when it happened…”

Mary Jane felt Peter’s arm coming comfortingly around her shoulders, moving to lend her his strength. Mary Jane felt the urge to brush him off, the automatic response that she had enough strength of her own, but in a moment, the urge passed. She enjoyed having someone with her whose first thought was genuinely for her feelings. It made those emotions seem realer, not something out of whack.

“Open the door,” she said. “Let me see.”

“Of course, Miss Watson. Right away.”

Retrieving the key to the new door from his pocket, the concierge unlocked it and then gallantly drew the door aside for Mary Jane. She felt like giggling at his sense of honor, considering he was showing her that her place had been trashed, completely trashed. It was like a bomb had gone off. No wonder the door had been knocked down. One stray gesture of—whatever this was—had to have been enough to rip it right off its hinges.

The window with its picturesque view of the city had turned into a gaping, gory hole in the wall—scraps of police tape trying to warn off anyone from falling out into seemingly miles of open air.

“Could you give us a minute?” Mary Jane asked the concierge. “I guess as long as I’ve got my luggage with me, might as well pack a few things…”

The concierge left them alone. Peter set down Mary Jane’s two heavy suitcases and unslung the backpack that had served as his own overnight bag, unencumbering himself so that he could better wrap his arms around MJ.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“It’s not your fault.”

“Isn’t it?” Peter glanced around. “This looks like one of Smythe’s Spider-Slayers. He tracked me to Pittsburgh, I wouldn’t be surprised if he followed me here and that’s why—“

Mary Jane put a finger to his lips. “I said this wasn’t your fault. And I’ve seen the state of your apartment. You’re not a good enough maid to clean this up. Look around. Let’s see if there’s anything we can salvage.”

“Alright. Stay away from the edge. You’re not as good with heights as I am.”

Mary Jane bit back a retort. It was true. She wasn’t. Alex Honnold wasn’t as good with heights as he was.

She picked her way through the rubble to the kitchen, where the plastic bag she’d stuffed full of other plastic bags from the grocery store finally came in handy. She peeled off one for herself and one for Peter.

“Here.” She gave it to him, started filling her own with what little had escaped the destruction. She wasn’t a very sentimental girl and even if she was, there were few childhood memories she would want mementos of, but it still hurt to have had someone come into her space and so casually ruined everything in sight. Had he even cared that he was putting her out on the street, upending her entire existence, violating the sanctuary every goddamned human being was entitled to in their own shitty home?

Mary Jane felt a bolt of anger towards Smythe and all the others. Not that she ever would be a big fan of anyone whose career involved trying to harm her Peter, but they really were utterly craven assholes… not just some other team in a big game of Moral Relativity Capture the Flag. She was glad Peter put so much of his time and energy into stopping them from breathing free air. The bastards.

“Next time Smythe breaks out of jail, please hit him really hard,” Mary Jane said, picking up a broken honeypot and then tossing it aside. It nearly fell out the broken wall. She’d need to watch for that—all she needed was to brain some passerby on the sidewalk and get sued.

“Well, he’s quadriplegic, so no, but I will be very hurtful with the quips. It’ll get dark.”

Her closet had taken a direct hit, but her dresser had only caved in, protecting the garments inside. Once she picked them out of the wreckage, she’d have something to wear. Much as Peter might like her taking up nudism.

“I’ve got a check coming in from my last shoot, but I’ll have to wait for it to clear before I put down a deposit on a new apartment. Pumping the brakes on my career to check in on my family threw a pretty big rock into my revenue stream.”

“I’d float you the money for a hotel in the meantime,” Peter said from the other room. He came in to join her with a bag of silverware. MJ guessed the plates surviving was too much to hope for. “But I spent the last of the war chest on a microscope.”

Mary Jane grinned, charmed, and kissed him. “You’re adorable.”

“Really, I did,” Peter protested. “It had sentimental value.”

“So did this place,” Mary Jane said, gesturing all around her. “Or at least, I thought it did. I had some nice clothes, some nice jewelry, some expensive perfume. I thought it was a kind of security—like a piton or something. I’ve climbed this high, so I can tie a rope around myself and prove to everyone, prove to myself, that there’s no falling back to where I used to be. But it’s just _stuff._ I honestly don’t miss it. It was convenient, not a part of me.”

“You’re allowed to feel crappy about an inconvenience,” Peter told her. “It doesn’t mean you’re spiritually enlightened if you don’t get annoyed at this stuff. I mean, this isn’t exactly a leaky faucet you’re having to deal with here.”

“No, of course not, they probably turned the water off,” MJ quipped. “But I have my sister back, I have you, I have two beautiful nephews. I just feel like I have more of a life now than I used to, even if the part of my life where I keep my underwear kinda got the shit blown out of it. If there’s one thing no one can ever say about Mary Jane Watson, it’s that she sweats the small stuff.”

Peter grinned. “Yeah, you can always keep your underwear at my place, even if it would mean living in sin.” He shrugged. “Or we could just get married.”

Mary Jane’s smile rakishly extended up her cheeks. “Okay.”

Peter flushed bashfully. “I mean, you know, once we’ve gotten the venue and the dress and invited everyone—“ He picked at his shirt collar. “I did ask you to marry me already, right? I remember doing that—please don’t tell me that was my proposal.”

Mary Jane shook her head. “You really can be neurotic about anything. No, I mean, let’s do it. Let’s get married. Nowish.”

“Now? Like—Vegas, Elvis impersonator, _now?”_

She cocked her head to the side. “Not quite that fast. But in a week or so. As soon as we can set everything up. No tasting wedding cakes, no trying on dresses, none of that. I already know what I want—most of all, you.”

Peter laughed nervously. “MJ, are you sure here? You’re not having a nervous breakdown over your apartment having a hole in it? I thought most women liked—“

Mary Jane clicked her tongue. “Most women. Never let it be said Mary Jane Watson is most women. Didn’t the red hair clue you in?” She took Peter’s hands, squeezing them, feeling the strength in them, but also how gently they held hers. “You said it yourself. We don’t know what the future will bring. We can’t promise each other happiness or safety. But we can face what’s coming together, as husband and wife. There’s so much danger and destruction in the world—we’re literally standing in the middle of it. A few months ago, there was some demon out of Norse mythology almost freezing the world solid. You fought with a bunch of Asgardians to stop him. Ned Leeds died, and Jean DeWolff, I know you were close. That’s reality. All we can do is grab whatever happiness we can _today,_ and we’ve waited long enough to do it. I’m as sure as I’ll ever be. Let’s bag up everything, box up everything, and when we unpack, it’ll be in our new home. The Parker residence.”

Peter blew an impressed whistle out between his lips. “Whoa, pretty lady. Are we sure I’m the smart one? You think a lot faster than I do. You know how much anguished brooding it would take me to decide all that?”

“Yes, but what’s the point, tiger? We know what we want. Let’s reach out and grab it. If it’s crazy, well, I’d rather be crazy with you than with anybody else.”

“Yeah, to hell with it. Damn the torpedoes, let’s get married!”

Mary Jane pulled him to her and all that muscle went willingly. “Now you’re sounding like Mary Jane Watson’s husband.”

**Author's Note:**

> *They’ll get around to discussing it in Adjectiveless Spider-Man 15, true believers!


End file.
